Shadowwyn Moor moulin rouge

Eshe—Quill—had come to terms with the fact that her family were likely dead and gone. Thats what all the signs pointed to. And with no ability to investigate it without dying herself—something the Endore could not picture any of her family desiring for her—she knew she had to move on. Quill had tried to go back to see how things were, or if any of her siblings (the many she had) survived the assault... to be sure, their mother had fallen victim to whatever pack, and the tawny woman felt Rannoch would not have let them get away with that without dying himself for the cause... but could find nothing. They, whoever had taken the land, were swift in their finding of her. Quill had come back too quickly as they suspected she would.

She dreamed of the family frequently. Like Bhreac, Eshe had all the desire in the world to travel. But her family came first and foremost, and even if she and Bhreac fantasized, they would never make good on it. How could they? They had younger siblings to look after and help raise, and a legacy to maintain. One of them surely would succeed their parents (if their ambitious brother did not try his hand), and so they remained. Up until that fateful day.

So it was of no surprise when she fancied that it was Bhreac herself coming toward her. Sometimes Quill immersed herself in her daydream, other times she chased the phantoms away. Today it would be the latter. She was in no mood to deal with her ghosts. Quill, having even told others this was her name, had taken the first steps into her new life in aligning herself with Harlyn, Luke, and the others with her. One was incredibly handsome to her—

These thoughts were jarred from her when contact was made.

And words. A true voice.

She narrowed her eyes in what was legitimate disbelief. "You're not real," and it was then Bhreac butted her head against her shoulder. It sure as Hell felt real... "I—" and Eshe, typically eloquent and well spoken, was at a loss for words. "You... alive?" She paused, looking over her shoulder. If Bhreac was alive, there was hope, wasn't there?!